


Sun, sand and more sand

by Thefreakoutsideyourwindow



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Heat Stroke, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4533810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thefreakoutsideyourwindow/pseuds/Thefreakoutsideyourwindow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You'd think that being on a desert planet with dual suns would be problematic. Well, travelling through a desert on one is worse. With limited water. And heavy clothes. And a talking raccoon that just won't shut the hell up. Needless to say, it's far from picturesque.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sun, sand and more sand

The mission was simple. Get in, deliver the goods, get out. Of course, the goods may have been a teensiee wincie bit smuggled, and the receiver may have been a major figure in the economy of black markets, but what was done was done and, at the end of the day, money badly earned or righteously earned was still money. So, bank account filled with a very, _very_ comfortable amount of units, the guardians of the galaxy made their way back to the Milano.

 

Only to find that it had broken down in the extreme heat.

 

Now, Peter wasn't really one to get irritable. But, somehow, the heat got to him. Either that or the fact that rocket had misplaced the cooling fluids in the first place and was now arguing with everybody else in annoyance, of whom were just as irritated at each other, and was currently storming through his baby and getting sand just about everywhere. The only one who wasn't currently about to rip someone's head off in frustration was Groot who, despite have a sunny disposition anyway, was particularly enjoying the weather on the planet of Raxamon with two suns.

 

Call Peter a party pooper, but one sun was enough for him, thank you very much.

 

So, being left with no other solutions, the guardians were forced to walk their way back to civilisation, a distress call being worth next to nothing due to the blatant lack of signal on the desert planet ( _'cause you just_ _ **had**_ _to keep the ship camouflaged and use a dual use teleportation device, now didn't you? Yes they were cheap but certainly not worth wading through sand and sun for God knows how long)._ All in all, it had seemed a bit like an exciting hike what with backpacks filled to the brim of supplies they would need and the exhilarating feeling travelling through the wilderness offered. For about five minutes at least.

 

“God damn this heat is relentless! Hell, if my suit wasn't tight before it sure as hell is now! My b-” Rocket was swiftly (thank God) cut off from his line of complaints by Gamora who replied in a somewhat annoyed tone,

 

“Talking will only waste your energy and saliva, just keep walking.” which came off as cooler than her normal demeanour. It seemed the heat got to everybody. Peter relented under the awkward silence in a record time of 2 minutes and responded with a terrible,

 

“Well, look on the bright side of things, at least it's bright!” to which he received groans from everyone except Groot who merely responded with “I am Groot!” and Drax who, the poor guy, was always confused by metaphors and added his two cents of,

 

“With two suns it would be near impossible to look on a dark side of this planet.”

 

Which, in turn made everyone groan more.

 

...It was going to be a long walk.

* * *

 

 

If there's one thing about assassins that will never fail to surprise him, Peter mused, is how well they utilised their surroundings. Or at least former assassins. Or contract killers. Or maybe - agh, this heat was getting to him.

 

“If we follow our previous route through this device we could arrive at our destination in approximately five hours.” The sleek voice sauntered in and out of his hearing as Peter struggled to understand the garbled mess that were words and letters and sentences. Wiping some of the sweat off his brow, he straightened up once more and listened to his team mates' reasoning.

 

“Five hours?!” Rocket exclaimed, sweat glazed fur bristling slightly at the notion. “Look, I get we have limited choices, but at this rate we'll be half baked by the time we get there!”

 

Groot, surprisingly, decided to pick a side and nodded, trying not to move too much as the raccoon was nestled on his head due to not being as able to walk as quickly as the others, and offered Gamora an apologetic “I am Groot.”

 

“What other options do you suggest?” Drax questioned, ignoring the phrases of speech in favour of figuring out a solution in the situation that was slowly growing dire, whether it be due to the excessive sweating of the group or the fact that his pale, blue skin was starting to get a pinkish tinge.

 

Running a paw through his ragged fur, Rocket seemed to consider possible solutions for a moment before blowing out a ragged sigh and dejectedly offering a sheepish, “I don't know what else to do.”

 

Not liking the downbeat mood of the situation but not wanting to undermine the severity of it either (their lives may very well be on the line, who in their right mind would willingly come help a walking, talking tree, a former assassin, a former destroyer, a raccoon and a crazy half Terran from a desert planet with two suns?) Peter replied, “We may as well keep walking. Ration what supplies we have for later, wear minimal layers and avoid over exertion as much as we can. It's not like we have many other options.”

 

Although annoyed that there wasn't a better option, nobody was surprised by the suggestion and so, with a unanimous vote, the group carried on walking. Peter could only resist for so long before quipping, “At least it's more than 12% of a plan!” to which a swift “Shut up, Quill.” was growled out by Rocket and, thankfully, didn't fail to lift the spirits of everyone, Drax even offering a slight smirk.

 

And so, with nothing but the clothes on their backs and declining supplied, the guardians marched on.

 

* * *

 

 

Sunburns? Check. Sweaty all over? Check. General exhaustion? Check. Adventuring in a desert with friends was one thing, struggling to survive in a desert was a complete other. Thoroughly sore of the heat and missing air con, Peter wished for little more than an actually cold and refreshing sip of water and a brief reprieve from the relentless suns and scorching winds of the desert. Of course, he was no better off than the others, at least to his knowledge. Rocket's fur was a major disadvantage, Drax's skin colour wasn't helping him absorb the sun without hassle, Gamora's lack of lightly coloured and generally light clothes wasn't doing her any favours and he was pretty sure that Groot wasn't quite as enthusiastic about the extra sunlight as he previously was.

 

All in all, things were looking kinda crappy.

 

Giving their poor feet a quick break, the guardians were sat in a circle on the ground, or rather sand, conservatively sipping at water and checking how much longer it would be until they arrived at some form of civilisation or solid source of water. If there was one thing that was near universal, it was that all species needed at least some water to live. And they were all running worryingly low.

 

“Dammit.” The near silent curse was the first thing that had come out of Rocket's mouth in quite a while and Peter, ever curious, looked over to find him trying to get just one more drop out of his canister but ultimately failing. Noting the others caught up in their own worlds of exhaustion and not willing to disturb them, Peter pulled out his own canister and tossed it over to Rocket wordlessly. Glad that his reflexes still seemed to be working, Rocket caught the container and looked back at Peter with an inquisitive look which he replied to with a quiet whisper of,

 

“It's not gonna drink itself, you know.”

 

Hearing a snort in Rocket's direction he smirked slightly as he heard the cap opened and the liquid guzzled. What he was not expecting, however, was for the thing to be flung back at him so quickly, with a fair amount of liquid left in it too. And, of course, the fact that it hit him in the face.

 

Quickly finding the perpetrator, Peter half pouted with an eyebrow raised at Rocket, of whom was quietly sniggering in that way of his. Before Peter could respond, however, a subtle,

 

“Thanks, Star wad.” was aimed at his way.

 

“Not even close.” Peter chuckled, placing the canister away in his backpack for later consumption.

 

“I know.” Was Rocket's only reply before they all started standing up and brushing the sand off of themselves. Heaving himself up, Peter stood still and then swayed slightly, his vision going a dark green before him as he slowly blinked the blackness out of his eyes and willed his knees not to buckle from his light-headedness and dizziness. Composing himself, Peter finished up with rubbing his eyes before noticing all of the guardians stood up and looking at him with some concern, Drax having gotten much closer to him in his spell of dizziness and even Groot offering up a worried, “I am Groot?”

 

Of course, Peter being Peter, he quickly brushed off their concerns with “It's nothing, guys, I'm fine. Just a little dizzy, is all!” and, topped off with his trademark grin, they left him alone for the most part but would send the occasional wary glance at his direction whenever he seemed to be faring worse.

 

_Only three more hours,_ he reasoned,  _then we'll finally be out of this hell hole_ . 

 

And then there were hills.

 

And they were certainly not alive to the sound of frikkin' music.

 

* * *

 

 

The world was a collage of sounds and lights and heat and heat and heat to Peter and nothing more. The light and heat from the dual suns enveloped him like the awkward and unrelenting embrace from a distance relative who you really don't know and aren't too keen on getting to know. Uncomfortable. Stifling.

 

The deep set misfortune that he had through to be bad enough at the beginning was now amplified by the fact that, annoyingly, this desert had lots of hills and very little flat lands. Covered in sand from head to toe (but mostly just toes and feet) the trekking which was through to be only three hours more was slowly growing exponentially. Kinda like the size of Groot's back.

 

Peter wasn't so sure when he'd gotten so tall (maybe it was all the extra sunlight?) but it wasn't a sturdy height. Kinda wobbly, actually. Maybe it was the wiggly heat waves that always looked so pretty on the heated days in summer back on earth. Wobbly, summer, sobbly...wummer...I wonder if-

 

Peter's track of thoughts were hastily cut off as he found himself staring into bark for a moment before a solid  _thunk_ resounded for a moment from his head and then he was sprawled out on his ass.

 

“A .. ou … ight, Peter?” Was the voice that quickly followed his embarrassment (embarrassment... embarrassed.. wait, why was he embarrassed?) and soon after a green hand slightly smaller than his wrapped around his own and pulled him up, the owned of such a hand studying him wordlessly as her eyes bore into him in concern.

 

A confused, “Huh?” was all Peter could give in contribution before quietly laughing off his fall (why had he fallen again?) and responded, “I was just caught up in my thoughts, silly me!” And laughed a little louder as he brushed off some of the sand that had accumulated, not really noticing the worrying glances the others were giving each other.

 

“Perhaps it would be wise to take another break,” Drax reasoned, his statement finding support through the nodding of everyone and the additional “I am Groot.” from their leafy counterpart.

 

“Aw come on guys, four against one is hardly fair!” Peter complained, looking to and fro from the faces of their little shamble and, having found not one face willing to support his cause his shoulders slumped dejectedly and, rubbing some of the weariness out of his dry face, mumbled, “I'll stop once we've covered the hills and we're on flat ground, 'kay?”

 

Not fully satisfied with the agreed limit but also knowing that Peter was stupidly stubborn and that pushing the matter further would do them no good, the ragged team continued walking over the sand dunes with a slight feeling of foreboding in their bellies.

 

* * *

 

 

_Regret, regret and oh! Look! More regret!_ Pretty much summed up Peter's thoughts in one. Although he really didn't want to keep everyone else and himself out in the sweltering heat of the dual suns, he wasn't feeling 110% himself. If his parched and cracked lips as well as sore feet and sunburnt skin weren't enough, a pesky and pounding headache sure was as it pulsated through every fibre of his being, making his already shaking knees wanting to give out more and more with each cautiously placed step. Oh, and he didn't even want to spare a thought to the nausea that seemed to come from nowhere.

 

It felt like he'd run a frikkin' marathon, a single God-damn breath did little more than further his thirst for water that he had long run out of through consumption as sweat... sweat. Was he sweating? He should be sweating, right? Ah well, no matter. Only a few more hills to go, just...just as soon as the world would stop being so bright and spiny-y.

 

The kind of gut wrenching dread that only filled one after a failed exam or a sense of impending doom soon took a grip on his stomach (or was that just the nausea?) as he felt the impeccably and annoyingly dry grains of sand join their friends in a mini sand avalanche as they began to slip beneath his foot. Feeling far more vertigo than he would ever care to feel as he righted himself, Peter cast a weary grin back at Gamora who, as usual, was observing him under her scrutinizing gaze except this time it was a little different. Concern, maybe? _Ah well, no matter_ Peter thought as she eventually turned and faced where she was walking once more so that she wouldn't fall like Peter nearly did.

 

Oddly enough, the sky seemed to enjoy taking its turn being diagonal, or vertical, no wait...both? Belatedly, Peter realised that the right side of his face was feeling a little too hot for being under direct sunlight and soon concluded that, based on the lightness of his feet, he was probably sliding down a hill.

 

“Peter!” a shrill voice cried out before others joined it and the shuffling of sand beneath feet rapidly started approaching him.

 

Scratch that, he was definitely sliding down a sand bank. He couldn't quite remember why that was such a bad thing, though. After all, he could travel faster without getting all light-headed like he did earlier when walking. However, his ingenious plan of them all riding on Groot's back over sand to civilisation was cut short as he was stopped short and slammed into something hard and warm, sending his world reeling far more than it was previously.

 

A deep and resounding, “Quill, are you injured?” added to the chaos within his spinning head and he only answered with a dull groan, finding the piercing and ever present light and heat of the dual suns all too much for him.

 

The quiet statement of, “Here, you help him sit up and..” was the last that he heard before his body swayed a little too far to the left and, having decided that he had had enough of this crap, Peter went limp and promptly passed out (since only maidens faint, duh).

 

* * *

 

 

Darkness enveloped him and every recess of his mind and for once Peter was grateful for it, all too sick of the ever constant light of the stars that he henceforth decided shouldn't be so damned bright and hot. Darkness was cool, darkness was good, darkness was like when you flip your pillow over during a hot night to snuggle up to the cool side that wasn't trying to smother you in your sleep with heat. However, very much so against his will, Peter was slowly becoming ever more aware of the gentle dry breeze surrounding him and something dry and scratchy around his arms, legs and a bit of his face. Reluctant to wake up but knowing that he had to regardless for some reason (maybe Rocket had finally started to mess with his holy Sony Walk man?), Peter found himself waking up and squinting in the light of the dual stars once more except this time with minor foliage to shade him. 

 

“I am Groot!” Scratch another thought again, minor Groot. Or rather, big Groot, fully grown after Ronny, no...Roland? Hell what was his name-

 

“Yo Peter, you still alive down there?” A scratchy voice called from above. _Above? Why in the hell would_ – it seems Peter's thoughts must have been extremely funny to interrupt as a ball of scratchy and all too hot fur landed solidly on his chest, accompanied by, “Hey! I'm talking to you, oh “Star Lord”, what, too high and mighty to address your dearest subjects?” The final word was said with a bit of a snigger before Peter groaned in annoyance and picked Rocket back up with his spare arm, effectively throwing him back onto Groot's head.

 

“Peter 1, Rocket 0, ooh and the crowd goes wwwwild!” he exclaimed, swinging his arms in mock celebration as he may or may not have accidentally hit Rocket with a stray hit, grinning as the fur ball scowled at him a bit.

 

Another voice from in front piped up, “Glad to see you've rejoined the land of the living.” the clear voice quickly being followed by the worried and muffled question of, “He had left it?”

 

Having turned his head (despite the stupid amount of energy that it took) Peter realised he was facing a kinda angry looking Gamora and struggled to remember a time when she didn't normal look as such, or as short. Except Gamora wasn't short, so then why was he so tall?

 

It was with the belated realisation and following mortification that Peter realised he was being carried like an infant in Groot's arms, all too ready to escape the awkward predicament. However, it seemed that whatever smoothness he had was soon lost as he half flailed, half climbed out of Groot's hold and somehow, through all the shouting and commotion, he ended up being caught by his waist – upside down of course.

 

“Agh, Groot turn him around! If you-”

 

“-this is probably not very beneficial to-”

 

“-I am Groot!-”

 

“You guys, I'm going to-”

 

“Ugh, you imbeciles can't do anything right! Here, let me-”

 

“H-hey, guys, please just set me down, I'm gonna-”

 

“-we should probably heed Quill, he is looking quite-”

 

“No! Don't shake him! For the love of-”

 

And so on and so forth. That was until, of course, one shake to the side a little too harsh for Peter and he crumpled to the ground, finally slipping through Groot's sinewy fingers and falling onto the floor on his hands and knees. Cue awkward vomiting. _Aah, it sure is fun to be me,_ Peter thought sarcastically, panting slightly after he had vomited up what little liquids he had left. Hell, if he wasn't so busy chunking up what was left of his guts, Peter might have even laughed at the looks of his team mates' faces were it not for the fact that these expressions were also directed to him. 

 

Unsteadily making his way to his feet, Peter waved away a helping hand with a sluggish and generic motion of his own and, when standing and not completely feeling like he'd just fall flat on his face were he to lift his head, he said, “Let's never do that again.” laughing slightly in spite of himself yet remaining surprised when none of the others laughed.

 

Gamora made a move to stamp her hand on his forehead, Peter taking a shaky step back in surprise but being too slow to dodge out of the way. “Um...guys? What's going on? You jus' shook me a bit too hard, that'sall, nothin' t' worry 'bout...” His gaze lingered on hers, glassy and more unfocused that she would have liked. Gamora pulled back a moment later, stating something about a rising temperature, needing to pick up the pace and other weird stuff that Peter was all to certain didn't or rather, shouldn't concern his well being or lack thereof.

 

One thing that Peter certainly didn't agree on, however, was the fact that he had to be carried by Groot the rest of the way. And he was pretty adamant about it, even as the team he argued with split up into multiple versions (ganging up was hardly fair!) and they would have kept on bickering were it not for the fact that as Peter pulled himself from Groot's grip he swayed dangerously for a moment before landing on his ass, leaving the team in silence once more.

 

Heaving a dejected sigh, Gamora slowly made her way over to the now cross legged and probably sulking self dubbed Star-lord.

 

“Peter?” She questioned, wondering in the silence if he had passed out once more but swiftly rejected the notion after seeing him only curl inward on himself more. Containing the bubble of anger that welled up within her, Gamora moved a little bit closer and crouched down so she would be at eye level if he lifted his head up to look at her, not wanting to force him lest he throw up once more.

 

“Peter, this is childish and you know it. You're unwell, and we can all see it except you, apparently. So God help me if you don't let Groot carry you the rest of the way as, need I remind you, he has been doing for the past half hour, I shall do so myself and I won't be anywhere near as gentle.” Her firm and resounding tone broke through the stillness and though she disliked being cruel to their currently incapacitated leader, it was clearly required as Peter looked up only whence she had finished her mini speech, eyes unfocused and glazed over with a translucent sheen.

 

Finally, he spoke up, “A'ight, but the moment I'm feelin' better, ahm gonna walk by myself.” Then, without further ado, he pushed himself off the ground with both arms and gradually made his way over to Groot, head bowed down for a moment in slight embarrassment and perhaps a small form of an apology before he was cradled in the sturdy branches once more.

 

“Oh, and Peter,” she called out once more, somewhat amused yet concerned at how he lazily rolled his head in the general direction of her, “We'll be taking frequent breaks for now on.” He nodded, since there was little else that he could do. “And for each time that you say you're fine in the future we'll shake you and see if you throw up.”

 

Peter only tilted his head back and gave an agonized groan.

 

* * *

 

 

The faint but frequent pounding of his heart soon found a well harmonised and very painful melody with the pounding in his head and, despite the heavy shame and embarrassment it brought him, Peter was actually kinda glad that Groot was carrying him otherwise he'd probably be falling on his face with every other step. For the most part, the rest of the group remained silent. Gamora was busy searching for flatland and navigating them through this hell-hole, Drax was on the alert in case any very, very hungry sand worms or any other desert predators that were too far gone and all too willing to try and make a meal out of them, Groot was busy walking, balancing Rocket on his head and holding Peter in his arms (since Groot would be the coolest and sturdiest of all, hence, they decided, best suited to hold Peter) and Rocket was busy being Rocket, or at least a more heat subdued version of himself.

 

However, as Rocket's witty comments slowly got less and less of a response from Peter the furry raccoon eventually gave up, noticing Peter's gaze going from glazed to wandering and then non existent as his eyes slipped back into his skull in an attempt to reduce the pounding headache that had taken up residence in his skull.

 

Though the next break was a bit abrupt and without the patchy shade of Bahrillium trees, nobody was surprised when it was called, everyone making their way over in a circle of the new flat land they had finally reached in silence. Well, nearly.

 

“Rise an' shine sleeping beauty, time to greet the day again!” Rocket exclaimed, jostling Peter as he was gently propped up against Groot in a sitting position, the leafy celestial voicing his complaint in a quiet, “I am Groot!” with a quip from Drax of, “I would not be very inclined to call him a beauty.” making everyone laugh a bit as Peter shoved Rocket away with a low growl, thankfully not as forceful as it could have been due to his weakened state.

 

Seeing no reason for them to needlessly bake under the suns, Gamora swiftly made her way over to Peter, kneeling in the sand once more to meet his bedraggled gaze. Pulling out her own canister she made a move towards him but flinched somewhat when he harshly took the canister off of her, took a shaky swig and then forced it back into her hands. Irritated but only knowing that confronting him right now would just anger her more, Gamora made a move to leave but was stopped by the feeling of a slightly larger and far too hot hand tugging on her own.

 

She turned to find Peter looking at her wearily, granted he was looking weary beforehand but now he just looked far too travel worn to even consider being in a place such as this, and he mumbled, “M'sorry G'mora, I shouldn't've been a dick like that...” trailing off as he awkwardly let go of her hand and moved to rest his head on his knee.

 

Gamora sighed before her expression lightened somewhat and she quipped back, “Being a dick is part of being a leader and you excel at it.” leaving everyone (even a half out of his mind Peter) laughing at the perfect back handed compliment.

 

In the end it was Drax who broke the comfortable silence, standing and brushing whatever sand remained on him before announcing, “We only have an hour and a half left to go, it would be best of us to make haste so we can quicker identify what it is that ails Peter.” as if it were a presidential speech. However, it seemed to be the kick that the group needed as they all stood up and stretched their limbs once more (albeit peter a bit more wobbly) and started making their way to civilisation once more, only hoping that they would beat the suns there before the icy rain of desert nights would take over.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter wasn't waking up.

 

This was a fact that, until recently, wouldn't have disturbed Gamora in the slightest. Peter's not waking up? The fool probably drank himself stupid once more and is working off a killer hangover in his own due time. Peter's skin is too hot? Perhaps he was thinking scandalous thoughts once more in another worthless attempt to woo her with his recently dubbed “pelvic sorcery”. Peter's breathing is too fast? Well, she'd walked in to awkward situations enough times to know that one should knock before entering a bedroom, even if the situation is dire as one may see something more dire if one decides to barge in and _oh look, it has two mouths, bet that came in wonderfully handy when-_

 

Regardless, none of these current facts wouldn't have even fazed her had he been displaying such symptoms previously (she thinks, at least, he could have saved his own sorry hide before he met them). _He would have had to,_ another thought counters, only making her worries increase tenfold in the light of the situation, _because if Peter doesn't know what's wrong then how would we, with no knowledge of Terran biology?_ However, if there was one thing that was certain, she knows he should not be this hot, nor breathing this quickly, and he should have woken up the first five times Rocket had shouted in his ear and Groot had tried to shake him awake.

 

“Peter, this is ridiculous, wake up!” she commands, shaking him slightly as she does so, hoping that jostling him would give a slight reaction (and even if it lead to vomiting that was at least something because _hell_ the last time someone didn't wake up after this much noise and motion had been her parents when- no, no she refused to even go into such territory. He's breathing, therefore he is alive. _Then why the hell wasn't he waking up?_

 

“I do not believe sound or motion is aiding in his waking.” Drax added, _unhelpfully_ she thought but brushed the thought away as quickly as it had arrived, he was just trying to help and getting snippy at her team mates right now was not beneficial to the situation. It seemed that Rocket, however, didn't quite have her self restraint.

 

“Well then what should we do, huh? Drop his head on the ground until he wakes?!” he growled out in frustration, ignoring the appalled “I am Groot!” that sounded out beneath him.

 

“I suggested no such thing,” Drax ground out, tone a bit harsher than usual (whether it was due to the heat or the stress of the situation, Gamora wasn't too certain but she chalked it up to a mixture of both) “But to continue with our current ministrations would be useless if it not aiding his waking.”

 

Before Rocket could jump in with another snarky comment, Gamora supported Drax's point by gently aiding Peter to the ground from Groot's sturdy arms, stating, “We could at least try and get him to drink some water, it should help wake him up, surely.”

 

“And if that doesn't work?” Rocket added, tone deflated and merely questioning now, his lack of fight evident in his weary eyes.

 

“Then we can pour some on him.” Gamora responded, kneeling down and pulling her half empty canister out as Drax got behind Peter and awkwardly held up his limp figure with one arm. However, just as she was pressing the canister to his lips and tilting his head up, something unexpected happened. It also happened to be pretty damned terrifying.

 

Peter started shaking.

 

* * *

 

 

Drax had seen people shake before, he'd seen men quake and shiver in their very boots as he tore them to pieces, he'd shaken in such a fashion as he stood there all those years ago, able to do nothing as Ronan tore his family apart bit by bit. But this, this was not something he had ever seen or dealt with before. At first, it was nothing but his head snapping back into Drax's chest and a sharp gasp tore through him.

 

“Quill?” he questioned, worry mounting as he saw Gamora freeze in fear and Groot & Rocket's eyes widen in fear and surprise. “Peter, what is-”

 

He was cut of by a harsh grunt as Peter jerked his head forward and back once more before all of the muscles in his neck, jaw, arms, legs, anywhere what Drax could see his muscles were clenching so tightly that he went rigid and his lips slowly started to turn blue. It was only when an exclamation of “I am Groot!” was shouted did Drax realise that he was doing nothing but staring at Peter while he suffered through this strange episode.

 

A voice sounded out to his left, “Wh-what do we do? What's happening to him? I don't-” the confused babble of what he soon realised was actually Gamora panicking over a situation (though he figured if she could chose to panic over a situation, this would certainly be a rational one to panic over) she was soon cut short by a shout of “Move away from him!” from Rocket.

 

Confused and more than a bit terrified, Drax and Gamora silently heeded his request as Rocket scrabbled down Groot and onto the ground, kneeling beside Peter and moving his hands around, as if figuring what to do before a frantic, “I am Groot!” sounded out behind him. “Right! Coat, coat, where is it..” he muttered, scrabbling for Peter's coat and balling it up before putting it beneath Peter's head, hands fidgeting once more as if he didn't know what to with them.

 

“What's happening to him?” Gamora asked, face drawn with worry as his lips slowly got blue and his body more tense, wound up like a spring that she was sure could break with a moment's notice. “Is he-” she was cut off once more as Peter suddenly went limp and his limbs started jerking in rhythmic motions, head missing the jacket beneath it a couple of times but being cushioned most of the time.

 

A blur of blue rushed past her when the jerking began and a frantic, “Don't touch him!” was shouted out by Rocket, Drax halting before he ended up doing just that.

 

“Why?” He asked, clearly angry as his brow furrowed and Peter writhed in front of him, the occasional wet and guttural grunt escaping his throat, “He is suffering! Can you not see that?!”

 

“He's not supposed to be restrained!” Rocket growled back, terrified as well to see Peter go through such a thing but understanding it all too well. “It'll be over soon, seizures like this tend not to last long.”

 

As if a testament to his statement, Peter's movements all but stopped after one particular jerk of his arm, his breathing still there unlike earlier but far more rapid than it was before.

 

“I am Groot.”

 

“Yeah, I know, it's a good thing it didn't last very long, doesn't make it any less nasty though.” Rocket replied, looking more tired than ever as Drax and Gamora approached Peter's side once more, no longer quite so worried of doing him harm as they had earlier but still holding caution none the less.

 

“Is he...” Gamora asked hesitantly, voice trailing off before she could even properly ask her question, fear of such a thing happening again or what would happen getting the best of her.

 

“He should be fine,” Rocket replied, voice firm and grim but honest none the less, “Tired, aching and confused as hell, but fine. It was probably whatever illness he has that's caused it.”

 

For a moment everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief, glad that no permanent damage had been done and, after Rocket checked that Peter hadn't bitten his tongue too hard or anything along those lines, the group quickly had Peter is Groot's arms once more and were about to set off at breakneck speed to the city before Drax turned to Rocket and Groot and asked, “How is it that you knew what to do?”

 

The duo were silent for a moment and after a mutual glance between the two, Rocket answered, “I went through some nasty shit at half-world and had seizures sometimes, Groot helped me through them.”

 

Drax let out a small but deep sound in understanding and confirming they had everyone ready and everything with them, they set off to civilisation once more, albeit at a much faster pace, praying peter wouldn't have to go through such a thing again and that none of them would succumb to what he had developed before they got there.

 

* * *

 

 

 

It turns out that the desert the guardians had to trek through was no normal desert. Not because it had way too many hills for no fucking reason or for the fact that there were way too many desert predators for the lack of prey that would feast upon nearly non-existent cacti which shitty tasting water could be drawn from. Hell, the fact that the desert planet had two suns and the fact that they were stuck underneath them wasn't the weirdest thing. However, finding a blue Centaurian that just _coincidentally_ appears in the same desert as you when you're struggling and willing to do almost anything to get out of your situation? Now that was weird. Hell, Rocket was more willing to believe in fate and that they'd somehow (miraculously, stupidly) known that Peter was sick and needed their help maybe as a way of getting back at him for that infinity stone stunt he had pulled instead of pure coincidence which he normally did.

 

Either way, things weren't looking very peachy.

 

Terrified for not only Peter's well-being (which wouldn't have been the first time that day) but also that of the crew's, Rocket wasn't seeing any quick way out of this that wouldn't end in at least some form of bloodshed and a greater time setback, which, realistically, could cost Peter's ( _no shut up, don't think about it, thinking about it means it could happen, dumb ass, just think of a way out of this, think God dammit,_ _ **THINK**_ _!_ ).

 

“Well well well, whadda we have 'ere?” an all too smug voice proclaimed.

 

_Well, fuck._

 

“If this is about the infinity stone-” Gamora began, face growing dark as Yondu raised up a hand to silence her, wishing to continue but knowing all too well the severity of the situation they were in.

 

“Now who said it was about that?” He joked, the crooked grin on his face just a shade pale of downright terrifying but still predatory. “Here I am, mindin' my own business an' jus' leavin' after some work in the city an' you all go accusin' me of a stick up or somethin', how stupid is tha'?” He laughed somewhat at his own joke, seemingly unperturbed by the death glares the rest of the guardians were sending his way.

 

“What business do you have with us, Yondu Utonda?” Drax questioned, voice steady as usual but his fists clenching and unclenching as if preparing himself for a fight. It seemed that none of them were expecting the response that Yondu offered next.

 

The Centaurian sighed for a moment, looking down and wiping the grin on his face before answering in the most convincing honest voice that Rocket had ever heard from thieves (either that or he was a far better liar than Peter could ever aspire to be) and he replied, “Though tellin' the truth ain't even been my speciality, I actually was jus' takin' a break from the city, it's nearer than you think.” And then with a look that was just as concerned as it was accusatory, he turned to look at Peter in Groot's arms and added, “But it might not be close enough for 'im at this rate.”

 

“What do you know of it?” Gamora spat, taking a step closer to Groot as Rocket's heckles raised and Groot held Peter a little bit closer to him, a bit more protectively, worried and yet not surprised when it failed to rouse anything out of him, he'd been silent for the past half an hour despite the fast pace as he was jostled, though only a little, the rest of the way to the city.

 

“I know enough that I know a sick Terran when I see one,” he paused for effect, holding his hands up in a universal gesture of surrender before taking a step closer, “And Peter ain't lookin' so good from here.”

 

They remained like that for a moment, neither party moving, all too afraid that one wrong move could send them into a bloodbath that would only end with the demise of one or the demise of all of them and of which could also cost Peter's life if they took too long, all too heavy with the realisation that _holy shit, he could really die here if we don't hurry the fuck up, he's dying, he's dying, he's dying, what can we-_

 

A heavy beat of silence passed before Yondu asked, “Can I see him?” in a way that was clearly less of a question and more of a demand.

 

“Certainly not! If you think this is an opportune moment to extract revenge on Peter for the infinity stone incident, I can assure you-” Drax was cut off by a very sudden and surprisingly stern,

 

“I am Groot.” which caused even Rocket to blink in shock for a couple of moments before asking,

 

“Are you sure? Because if you ask me he doesn't seem the most trustworthy of-”

 

This time Groot replied with greater insistence with, “I _am_ Groot.” leaving Rocket speechless for a moment, lips pursed as he went through all the possible outcomes in his head, all eyes on him before he sighed, resigned and replied, “Alright, alright, you can see him. But if you think of doing anything funny with him, we'll-”

 

“Yeah, yeah, be on me in the blink of an eye, total destruction an' all that. I won't do anythin' to harm the boy,” he replied, putting an almost teasing significance on the word “boy” making Rocket's ears flatten and the other members tense up slightly, “I jus' wanna look at 'im.”

 

Seeing no other way out (Yondu was dead if he did anything rash and so were they if they did), the group reluctantly let Yondu get closer to Peter as Groot laid him on the ground with great care as if he were a newborn. In some ways, he was more delicate than one.

 

It only took one look and one touch on Peter's forehead before Yondu retracted his hand, sucked in a breath and said, “Aw hell, the brat's got heatstroke.”

 

“What is this 'heatstroke'? And how do you know what it is?” Gamora inquired, leaning in closer as Yondu pulled something out from his side that turned out to be a canister of water, somewhat larger than their own.

 

“I sent 'im to work in the engine room once when we were stuck on a planet like this here one, grounded for a little while in the heat.” he paused for a moment, asking Rocket for some strips of cloth and, after a moment of silence and a quiet “Sorry Quill, I know you like this shirt but it's better off being used like this.” Rocket pulled off Peter's shirt with Drax's help and ripped it up into shreds, Yondu hurriedly covering them in cold water before placing them on Peter's forehead, neck, armpits and (somewhat awkwardly) his groin.

 

He would continuously apply water to the makeshift “towels” and tried getting Peter to swallow some water (of which most of it just dribbled down his chin) as he continued. “We weren't gone too long, 'bout 3 hours tops, came back to find him collapsed on the floor, breathin' way too fast and not sweatin' despite being far too hot. We got 'im to the medical bay fast enough, cooled 'im down, slap on the back of th' head when he woke up and told 'im to not do it again.”

 

Yondu looked at the limp form of Peter for a moment with an emotion not too unlike concern filling his eyes before he gave a dry chuckle. “Clearly tha' warnin' wasn't enough for 'im.”

 

They spent ten minutes more under Yondu's scrutinizing gaze and awkward silence, none daring to question his motives or why he was being to careful and meticulous with Peter as if he could break under him which, at the moment, if pushed the wrong way, he probably could.

 

The Centaurian stood up unexpectedly, looking down at Peter as if debating with himself before announcing, “He should be more stable now, the city is only half an hour away now and tha's when yer walkin' slowly. There's a Shi'ar medical centre somewhere in th' city.” He stopped and stared at them for a moment longer and then turned, making his way to a black splodge in the distance that was probably his ship before a voice called out.

 

“Why are you helping us?” Gamora asked and, after a moment's silence (they seemed to be having a lot of these as of late) added, “Why are you helping him?”

 

Yondu paused for second before he snorted and tipped his head back in what was either contemplation or silent laughter before replying, “Someone's gotta do it.” and walking off, giving them a generic back handed wave before leaving them in the dust and sand of a planet more ancient than anyone could ever know.

 

* * *

 

 

It was hot, Peter decided, as sweat dripped down his temples in spite of something cold across it and seemingly everywhere else on him and even in the darkness that was once comfortable he could still feel the stifling heat, this time accompanied by sheets. Light sheets, but sheets that could potentially trap in warmth none the less. Something was pinching the crook of his arm, his throat was too damn dry and, despite the heavy exhaustion that had come from nowhere and seemed to weigh down on every fibre of his being, Peter was a damn stubborn person and, when he set his mind to it, he tended to always get what he want. In this case it was lucidity and actually being freaking awake (he felt like he hadn't been for a while, he wasn't too sure why) so, determined, Peter set to the task of opening his eyes.

 

And instantly regretted it.

 

It seemed that no matter where he was he couldn't escape the wrath of the dual suns, this time coming in at such an awkward angle it went straight into his face and made the whole room shine in its white brilliance, indicating that it was probably the morning from its intensity. Wait, room? Letting out a low and quiet groan, Peter opened his eyes to find that, once more, he was actually in a room and, based on the sheer whiteness of it and the ever present smell of disinfectant, it was most likely a hospital room.

 

Peter moved to get out of bed (and to get a damned drink at that, too) when he noticed the slight tugging on his arm was actually an iv, supporting him with fluids he was pretty sure he needed from what he remembered of the dizziness, headache and awkward vomiting. Sighing, he made a move to get rid of the iv when a voice piped up from the side of the room.

 

“I wouldn't do that if I were you, especially considering what you've been through.”

 

“Gamora... hi.” Peter gave a sheepish smile at her entrance which only continued to deepen her disapproving glare yet there was a soft edge to it and it soon caved into a dejected sigh and then relieved smile.

 

“You're such a fool, you know.” She replied, making herself comfortable in a seat opposite his bed and before Peter could respond with the classic “Took you this long to find out, huh?” the door opened once more and the rest of the team entered the room, Drax with “Quill! It pleases me to see you well.” Rocket with “Hey Jackass, 'bout time you woke up.” and Groot with his ever winning and oh so predictable “I am Groot!” though undoubtedly with a different meaning than the last 75 times he said it.

 

“Hey again, guys.” he said, smiling despite not really knowing what the heck was going on or what the hell had happened, his best guess consisting of “extreme puking leading to extreme panic” or something along those lines like yeah, he was ill, but surely not ill enough for a hospital, right? Deciding he wasn't going to get any more answers by thinking about things he didn't know (he wasn't stupid but it's not like he could see into the past where he was probably passed the fuck out) he asked,

 

“So, uh... what exactly happened after I passed out?”

 

The others went surprisingly quiet after he asked and just as he was about to ask something stupid along the lines of “sand worms” or “sand blizzard” or “native tribe filled with gorgeous women that I totally just missed out on, and missed out big time” they all started offering their answers before, yet another surprise here, Rocket shushed them all and answered,

 

“You weren't waking up and were breathing way too fast, had a seizure, nearly died and Yondu came and saved your ass before you died and then directed us to this place, Shi'ar medical facility in case you couldn't tell from the shit ton of disinfectant they've used.”

 

Okay, so, seizure and near death were a couple blunt things to come to terms to but were needed regardless. Peter was silent for a couple of moments before asking,

 

“Wait, Yondu saved me?”

 

“Of all the things to ask...” Rocket muttered which caused Gamora to crack a small smile and Drax to snort a little.

 

Before Peter asked the same question once more (which he was notorious for doing if he didn't get the answer he so desired in the timely fashion that he wanted, of which was, annoyingly, ever changing) Gamora said,

 

“He said he was finishing up business in the city when he found us, he said you had heatstroke and helped cool you down before guiding us here.”

 

Peter was silent once more before cracking a laugh and muttering a quiet, “Fuck, I wonder what he wants from me now, first the infinity stone, now this. Makes sense, though.”

 

“Why would he expect anything from a sick person? And I am confused as to why he would know where you would be.” Drax questioned, brow furrowed in confusion.

 

“Yondu's as good as sniffing out a potential deal as he does someone hurt.” Peter replied, “Helping a hurt person is like signing a business contract, they'll repay him.”

 

“I was unaware that Centaurians could smell pain.” Drax replied, leaning back and crossing his arms over his tattooed chest as Rocket sniggered and got that mischievous glint in his eyes.

 

“Well have you seen his arrow and what he does with it? Clearly the guy likes smelling it.” Rocket added.

 

“Dude quit making Yondu scarier than he is and no, Drax, he can't smell pain.” Peter jumped in. Yeah, Yondu was scarier than a nest of Asian hornets tracking you down and dissolving your flesh as they stung you to death but smelling pain was another level of weird that Peter didn't even want to consider.

 

“But he certainly enjoys inflicting it.” Gamora said, mirth in her eyes at Peter's slightly annoyed but mostly “you've gotta be kidding me” look that took over his face.

 

“Oh come on guys, he's not that-” Peter was cut off by, surprise surprise, Groot himself who seemed to be in agreement with the others.

 

“I am Groot”

 

“See? Even Groot agrees! That's 4 against 1, bud.” Rocket said triumphantly, waving his arms in the air in a mocking fashion like Peter had earlier.

 

“Ugh.”

 

All too done with this shit, Peter placed his head back on the pillow and, despite the brief rush of adrenaline that he had had, exhaustion crept over him once more like an all encompassing fog. Gamora, seeming to notice the drooping of his eyelids said, “Go to sleep, Peter, we'll be here when you wake up.”

 

Needing no other incentive to clock out of this world, Peter gave a slight nod of his head in acknowledgement before falling back to sleep away from the heat and the suns and all the crap that had happened in the span of a day. Because worst come to worst (which, in this case, it did) he always had his team to rely on.

 

* * *

 

 

Two days later when he was fully rested and recovered, the guardians of the galaxy were all too ready to leave the dual sunned planet. However, it was only once they had taken off after the Milano had been brought to them by some very generous (and costly) chauffeurs to pick it up for them, had the voice of Gamora drifted from the kitchen area to the cockpit.

 

“Say, Peter, you know how you said Yondu saw hurt people as business deals?” She asked, a humorous yet slightly dangerous tone to her voice. Despite it probably (scratch that, definitely, Gamora rarely joked) being a rhetorical question, Peter responded anyway with a hesitant, “Yes?”

 

“It seems we have been depleted 10,000 units from our account on the basis of , and I quote, water for the stupid brat.”

 

“Son of a-” Peter's curse was cut off by the echoing laughter of Rocket and Drax's “Stealing isn't a humorous matter, especially when it happens to us.”

 

Peter decided from that day forth he would do his utmost to avoid getting heatstroke, if not for the sake of his own health, then for the sake of his bank account.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to read up more on the seizure that Peter had it's a clonic - tonic seizure and can be read up on here: 
> 
> http://www.aboutkidshealth.ca/En/ResourceCentres/Epilepsy/UnderstandingEpilepsyDiagnosis/TypesofSeizures/Pages/Tonic-Clonic-and-Tonic-Clonic-Seizures.aspx


End file.
